


Forever Trusting Who We Are

by ByteMe (something_generic)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death Watch (Star Wars), Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Gen, Good Parent Jaster Mereel, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Mandalorian Empire (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Pre Vizsla even more briefly, The Mandalorian Darksaber (Star Wars), True Mandalorians (Star Wars), Young Din Djarin, Young Paz Vizsla, briefly, canon is a garden of multi-coloured plants and i am a five-year-old making magic potions, disclaimer: i made up everything the accuracy is lower than zero here, more like all the hugs, why the fuck isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 22:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_generic/pseuds/ByteMe
Summary: Din, Paz and Grogu meet the Haat Mando'ade - it goes about as well as you'd expect.They start a fight. Or two. This just makes the Haat'ade like them more, despite everyone's best efforts.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin & Jaster Mereel, Din Djarin & Paz Vizsla
Comments: 24
Kudos: 292





	Forever Trusting Who We Are

**Author's Note:**

> quick context: Jaster lived, but has passed on the title of Mand'alor to Jango at this point, and Mandalore is prospering despite Death Watch being a nuisance. Din and Paz still grew up in the covert. Boba exists because I said so. 
> 
> Mando'a translations are in the end notes :)
> 
> this was beta'd by the wonderful elusive_ellipsis

“I– I don’t understand.”

Boba huffed quietly behind his _buy’ce_ , impatient and on edge. They were standing in the middle of a wrecked _Kyr’tsad_ base, the sky heavy with clouds and the air heavy with death. Pre Vizsla’s corpse lay like a ragdoll a few metres away, leaking blood onto the floor, a knife wound through his eye. The sound of fighting echoing through the buildings as the _Haat’ade_ finished clearing the base of enemy _verd’e_. It was far from a secure location and Boba was itching to move out.

His _buir_ was clearly thinking along the same lines, where he stood next to Boba with his helmet tucked under his arm. “I’ll explain more once we’re somewhere safe. Right now, we need to _leave._ _Kyr’tsad_ reinforcements will be here any minute.”

The two teenagers in front of them shifted uneasily. The one who’d spoken before, a wiry boy in unpainted, silver _beskar’gam_ and a bundle of something clutched against his breastplate, shook his head slightly. “Why should we go with you? We know nothing about you.”

“Would you rather wait here for the Death Watch to arrive?” Jango said, and it was only because Boba knew him so well that he could hear the irritation lancing through his tone. “We have ships. You do not. We just want to help.”

“You keep saying that!” the other teen hissed from behind the first. This one was taller, bulkier, but still no older than Boba. His _beskar’gam_ was blue – not quite _Kyr’tsad_ colours, but close enough to put Boba on edge. “But you still haven’t given us any reason to trust you! How do we know you’re any better than these _dar’manda_?” He gestured jerkily at the room around them.

Boba scowled. “We’re _Haat Mando’ade_. We’re at _war_ with the Death Watch. To be like these _hut’uune_ would be to go against our creed.”

The first _mando’ad_ glanced backwards at his companion, and the pair had a short conversation over internal comms.

Not knowing what was going on was killing Boba, and he could tell that _Buir_ wasn’t happy either. He didn’t understand who these two strange _verd’e_ were, or why they didn’t seem to know anything about _mando’ade_ politics and the civil war. Even if they were foundlings they should have heard _something,_ especially if they had access to that much _beskar_.

The silver _mando’ad_ turned back to face them, hesitating again. Boba fought the urge to growl.

“You’re sure I can’t just give you the sword?”

His _buir_ sighed. “ _Not_ here. The politics are too messy for that. But even if you _could,_ we would not just leave you here. You’re _ade,_ and _mando’ade_ at that. We won’t abandon you.”

Another heavy pause. Blue was tense still, but not actively hostile, and Silver was definitely considering. Looked like they were getting somewhere.

“Alright. We’ll go with you.”

_Finally. Thank the ka’ra._

-

Din was panicking just a little. He was fairly sure he had the right, considering the situation, but that didn’t really make him feel better.

Paz was injured, a stab wound to the thigh that probably wouldn’t be fatal but still had him limping, blood leaking down his leg, and they were surrounded by unknown Mandalorians, who spoke of a creed but didn’t cover their faces. Din wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the _aruetiise_ who’d run the base, actively disregarding The Way.

Din had never killed someone in _beskar’gam_ before today, and had never thought he would. But with Grogu safely tucked against his chest, trembling slightly in the blanket Din had used to hide them, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He’d do it again if he had to.

He really hoped these Mandalorians – _haat mando’ade_ the younger one had said – weren’t _dar’manda_ too. He really hoped they could be safe with them, that they wouldn’t have to worry about them discovering Grogu’s magic, or trying to force him and Paz to break their creed.

At least their _Mand’alor_ seemed reliable. Din wasn’t sure of the man’s _mandokar_ yet, but he hadn’t immediately tried to fight him for the _shabla_ laser sword like some of the _Kyr’tsadiise,_ which was a point in his favour. Unfortunately, going off the arguments he’d been making earlier, he’d probably still want to duel Din for the sith-damned thing.

Neither he nor Paz had any idea about what made the _di’kutla_ glowstick so special. And now they were stuck on a spaceship with someone who may or may not want to _fight him to the death_ over it.

So. He was panicking.

The ship rumbled and took off, shaking ever so slightly as they left atmosphere and entered hyperspace. Din could feel the tension in every line of Paz’s body as he braced himself against Din’s back. They were trapped now.

The _Alor_ dismissed the small escort of _verd’e_ that had boarded with them, and turned sharply to face the two boys.

“My son will take you to see the _baar’ur,_ ” he said gruffly. “I will find you later to explain about the _Dha’kad_.”

Din nodded once. He would prefer if they just forgot all about the ‘ _kad_ , but clearly that wasn’t an option.

The young _mando’ad,_ an _Alor’ad,_ apparently, who had stood by the _Alor_ earlier, stepped forward and tugged off his helmet before extending an arm in greeting. “ _Su cuy’gar. Ni cuyir_ Boba _aliit_ Fett _be_ Mereel. He/him.”

“ _Su cuy’gar_ ,” Din clasped Fett’s wrist with his free hand, and debated giving him his name. Names were to be kept secret from outsiders, but he wasn’t sure if the _Alor’ad_ counted as an outsider. He wasn’t really sure of much at the moment. “ _Cuyir_ Din, he/him.”

“Paz,” his friend said, glowering through his _buy’ce_ , although he refused to shake Fett’s hand when offered. It was better than Din was expecting anyway. Fett’s eyebrows twitched, and he jerked his head towards a corridor.

“This way,” the _Alor’ad_ bit out, and spun on his heel to stalk down the hall.

Din and Paz exchanged a glance, uncertain, but ultimately they had no choice but to follow. His _vod_ was injured, and Grogu definitely needed attention. Fett had said they followed a creed and the _Mand’alor_ had made a point about them being _ade_ …

If it all went wrong, Din would protect the others. No-one, creed-bound or not, would hurt his _aliit._

-

Fett led them to what was probably the fanciest med-bay Din had ever seen. There were eight beds set at intervals along the room, three occupied, each with a monitor embedded in the wall next to it. The back wall had floor-to-ceiling shelves of medicine and bandages, and _three_ fully functioning water sinks. There were _two full bacta tanks_. He hesitated in the doorway, overwhelmed, and felt Paz do the same behind him.

Who _were_ these mandos?

After meeting the Death Watch _hut’uune,_ Din knew that not all Mandalorians lived like his covert did, hidden underground, isolated, _safe,_ knew now that not all who wore _beskar’gam_ even followed the same creed–

But this was something else. The Death Watch had still lived out of repurposed buildings, survived off rations to keep everyone fed, went out in groups to stay safe. Din had assumed that the _Gor’Alor_ was right, that the wider galaxy was still too dangerous for the _mando’ade_ and they had to fight for their survival.

But this…

This was new. This was high-quality, top-of-the-line technology, technology Din had never seen outside of the holonet. There were four _baar’ure_ in bright duty-green _beskar_ , and the scanners and monitors were all equipped with physical buttons so they wouldn’t need to remove their gloves for touchscreens. The beds were reinforced to withstand the additional weight of _beskar._ _Ka’ra,_ even the doorway was larger than standard to account for armour.

This was built for Mandalorians.

_And that didn’t make sense._

He was jolted out of his thoughts by an approaching _baar’ur_ , a purple-skinned keshiri – which Din could tell, because their _buy’ce_ was on a table at the back of the room and not on their face and he was never going to get used to that – who greeted Fett with a scowl.

“What did you do to yourself this time, eh?”

Fett scowled back, and really if these mandos weren’t so odd he was sure Paz would get on with them famously. “I’m fine. _Buir_ asked me to show these two to medical for a check-up.”

The keshiri’s eyes turned to the pair and scanned them critically. “Hmph. Rotga _aliit_ Tycli _be_ Mereel, she/they. Injuries?”

“Din, he/him,” he said warily. “Paz has a stab wound.”

He could feel Paz’s glower through two layers of _beskar_. It was nothing on the glare Tycli levelled at Fett.

“You’ve had him walking around with a stab wound! What’d you think you were doing, eh?” she hissed, ushering Paz over to the closest cot with more success than Din expected considering how stubborn Paz could be. Then again, they both knew better than to argue with medics. “Sit. Where’s this stab wound, then? How old is it, and what kind of blade was used? Come on, I don’t have all day.”

Din followed, and stood facing Paz with his back to the room. He hated being so exposed, but this meant his body and two plates of high-grade _beskar_ shielded Grogu from a roomful of unknown _mando’ade._

“Upper thigh, no main blood vessels. Hour or so, tops. 4-inch reverse tanto, standard.” Paz said. That was good. Standard blades did a lot less damage than a vibro- or electro-blade. All it would need was a bit of disinfectant and some stitches, or cauterisation.

“Hmph. Won’t be infected yet, at least. We’ll get some antiseptic and a bit of bacta on it, and then I want to have a look at your bloodwork.”

Paz’s visor met Din’s, and he could imagine that the wide-eyed shock displayed on his own face was mirrored by his _vod._ Bacta? For a basic stab wound? Just how rich did these people think they were?

“We can’t pay for bacta. Stitches will do,” Din said, uneasy, as she cleaned Paz’s wound. He really didn’t want them to end up indebted to the _haat mando’ade_ any more than they had to _,_ not after the mess with the Death Watch.

The _baar’ur_ blinked at him. Then they chuckled, shaking their head. “We won’t make you pay for it, _ad’ika._ You’re in my med-bay, you get the best treatment I can give you, yeah? That means bacta.”

She fished two bacta patches out of her belt, and slipped one over the wound through the hole in Paz’s _kute_ , and tucked the other into his belt. “You put that one on later, before you sleep, yeah?”

Paz nodded, but Din knew it was a lie. The patch would be stashed away with their credits and painkillers and ration bars, for emergencies. Something that useful wouldn’t be wasted on a half-healed knife wound.

“Hmph. Take off your glove and give me your hand. Species?”

“Human, but not baseline.”

“Hmph,” they said, set his finger into their scanner. It beeped quietly a few times, and blinked green. “Great. Looks like you’re fine on this front, nothing urgent or scary.” She set the scanner aside and snapped her fingers. “Right. Bucket off.”

“No!” Din snapped, in time with Paz’s snarl. Tycli jumped, and then scowled.

“What do you mean, no? I need to check for a concussion,” they growled. “Bucket. Off.”

“I said no,” Paz sneered, pushing up off the bed. “I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion. We’re done here.”

“What is your problem?” barked Fett’s voice, from just behind Din. It took all his energy not to flinch away and retreat to where Paz stood. The situation was unknown, and he couldn’t afford to show weakness. He did, however, shift so both the _Alor’ad_ and the _baar’ur_ were in view. Just in case. He could see Paz doing the same, aligned so he could see the rest of the room over Din’s shoulder, braced for a fight. Din clutched Grogu tighter.

“Hey! Don’t yell at my patients!”

“Is everything alright over here?” Din tensed further as one of the green-armoured _baar’ure_ came up behind him.

“Fine,” growled Tycli. “This _di’kut_ is just refusing to cooperate.”

The new _baar’ur_ frowned. “Listen, _ad’ika,_ we only want to help,” they said, brushing past Din and reaching towards Paz. “You only have to take your _buy’ce_ off for a couple of seconds– ”

“No!”

Din dropped as Paz barrelled into the _baar’ur_ , who tripped backwards over Din and was sent crashing to the floor. A moment later had Din slamming upwards into Fett, who had stepped forward to apprehend Paz, who slammed his vambrace into Tycli’s nose before vaulting over the bed. Din bolted after him, and the pair darted out into the hallway, dodging round corners to shake any tails.

“Do you recognise this ship?” Paz murmured over the internal comm as they ducked into a blind spot between two security cameras. Din shook his head grimly.

“It’s a bulk freighter of some kind,” he said. “I’m not sure of the exact model, but if we can find a maintenance centre most will have a way to get into the walls.”

Paz nodded. “There were a pair of mouse droids in one of the corridors we passed. There’s probably one near there.”

-

Boba didn’t know whether to be furious or impressed.

The two younger _mando’ade_ had been wound tight ever since they’d boarded the ship, and Boba had been half expecting a fight the whole time.

That expectation had only grown with the tension in the med-bay, and yet when the first hit was thrown it had caught Boba entirely unaware. It was baffling.

Okay. He was impressed.

What was more impressive though, was how they’d managed to disappear so completely. No one had seen them since they left med-bay, and while the cameras had been able to follow them for a few corridors, they’d begun to appear only sporadically before vanishing completely.

No footprints to follow, no comm signal to trace. They had commandos prowling the halls, but so far it had turned up nothing.

“Excuse me, _Alor_?”

_Baar’ur_ Rotga stood in the doorway to the control room where Boba, his _buir_ , and two of the council were gathered. They had a bandage strapped over their nose, where Blue – Paz – had hit them. Jango turned his head to stare at the medic. “Yes, _baar’ur_?”

“I think I have a way to track down our boys. But– they’re good kids, _Alor._ We just spooked them. Don’t punish them.”

Jango softened. “We aren’t going to punish them, Rotga. They aren’t _Haat Mando’ade_ yet anyway, even if they had done something wrong.”

“Besides,” Myles laughed. “I think you’d have riot on your hands if you tried – one of the other patients caught the fight on their _buy’ce_ and leaked it. There are already adoption requests.”

Rotga snorted inelegantly. “I’m not surprised. But, here. I took Paz’s blood. We can set up a scan for his bio-signature.”

Boba mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t thought of that.

The scan didn’t take too long to set up, just a reconfiguration of the regular bio-scan to a more specific guideline. The ship was in hyperspace, and had been locked down, so they knew the pair had to be on board. The question was – where?

-

The hiding place they found was slightly too small for two teenage boys in full _beskar’gam_ , so Din was huddled right up close to Paz, with his head tucked under the other’s chin.

They were good at this. Hiding.

There were no easy ways into this space, no conveniently placed panels or hatches, just a maze of wire filled tunnels and vents. For a ship run by Mandalorians, the insides of the walls weren’t very well guarded.

These _mando’ade_ had clearly forgotten what it was to have to stay secret. They had forgotten how to hide.

Din could hear the patrols going through the halls above them. No one had tried to search the walls yet, but it was only a matter of time. They’d run out of places to look, or a mouse droid would stumble across the spot and report it. Hopefully by then, the ship would have left hyperspace, and they could make their escape.

Grogu stirred sleepily in their blankets. Din stroked a finger gently over the _ad’ika_ ’s big ears, while Paz’s chest rumbled with quiet laughter.

“You really love the little womp rat, don’t you,” he whispered. Din only hummed in response. He didn’t have the words to express just how right Paz was. He’d die for this child. He loved them so much it hurt.

Grogu’s eyes fluttered open, huge and brown and warm, and Din couldn’t help but smile. “Hey there, _ad’ika_ ,” he murmured. “How’re you feeling?”

The child burbled muzzily, and snuggled down between the _beskar_ plates surrounding them. Paz laughed softly again, and brought his own hand up to scritch at Grogu’s head, who purred.

“They’re going to start waking up in a minute, and it’s gonna be a nightmare,” Paz warned, and Din groaned in response.

“I know. We’re never going to be able to keep them still,” he said, turning his visor further into Paz’s collarbone and snuggling closer. His _vod_ was so much bigger than him, and Din always felt safe when curled up close to him. They’d been doing this since they were _ade,_ and it was a comfort he rarely found in other places.

Grogu giggled, and stuck a hand up under Din’s helmet. Brat.

_Thump._

The pair flinched, heads jerking up towards the direction of the noise.

Another thump, and a clang of metal on metal. Muffled voices drifted through the space.

Ever so slowly, Paz shifted forwards and around to settle in front of Din and Grogu, between them and the noise. A panel was removed, and light began to trickle into the space from between the circuit boards and tangled wire.

The child chirped, ears cocked, and Din frantically hushed them, his heart beating out of his chest. Paz drew a vibroblade.

They waited.

The noise stopped.

Then, the voice of the _Alor_ filtered down from above. “We know you’re down there, _adike._ That’s quite a hiding place you’ve found. I’ve no idea how you managed to reach it in full _beskar’gam,_ though, and I’m not even going to try and reach you.”

That was… good. The space may no longer be a good place to hide – Din didn’t even want to think about the fact that they’d been found, the mere thought of it making him want to panic – but it was secure, and that meant it was safe.

The other Mandalorians didn’t know about Grogu yet either, and Din was perfectly content to keep it that way.

“We aren’t going to force you to come out,” the _Alor_ continued. “We don’t want to hurt either of you. I don’t know what exactly it was that startled you in the med-bay, but whatever it was, it was unintentional, and I apologise.”

Neither of them moved. Grogu squirmed in Din’s arms, but stayed silent, thank the _ka’ra._ The longer they could be kept secret, the better.

Paz’s voice crackled softly over his helmet comm. “ _I don’t trust them._ ”

Din grimaced. It wasn’t much of a surprise – Paz rarely trusted anybody. Usually, Din liked to give people the benefit of the doubt, and would ask for help while Paz hovered menacingly behind him. Paz said he was naïve. Din thought it was practical. Asking someone for a meal or a bed for the night was easier than stealing, and people would say yes more often than not. He’d gotten good at guessing who would say yes. He wouldn’t have guessed these people, and they’d tried to remove Paz’s helmet, which was never a good sign.

But no one had ever _apologised_ for that before.

No one had given them bacta patches before, either.

He stayed silent.

-

No one saw the two strange _mando’ade_ for the rest of the three-cycle trip.

They hadn’t gone anywhere, the bio-scan still pinged from the first bolthole, and the food the left out by the panels they’d ripped up vanished between shifts. It was like living on a ship with fair folk. Or stray loth-cats.

So, naturally, when he turned the corner on his way to the cargo bay as they were landing and ran headfirst into the mysterious pair, Boba jumped out of his fucking skin.

“ _Manda_!” he yelped, glad for the scrambler in his _buy’ce_ that disguised just how high his voice went. “Where did you two come from?”

Neither of them moved. Boba scowled impatiently.

“We’re landing in a moment,” he said, doing his best not to snap at them. _Buir_ would be pissed if he made them bolt again. “If you’re going to leave the ship, that is.”

“We know,” the silver one, Din, said. He still had the bundle of something clutched to his chest, and the _Dha’kad_ hung from his belt. “We felt when we entered atmosphere.”

Boba scowled harder, if that were possible, and brushed past the pair. “Well, come on then _._ ”

He realised, as he walked past, that both _mando’ade_ were taller than him. Boba may have come to terms with the fact that he was always going to be short years ago, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t exceptionally frustrating when others towered over him.

The ship shuddered as it touched down, and Boba stalked off towards the ship’s exit with the two mandos trailing along behind.

_Buir_ had insisted on seeing them as soon as possible, but also hadn’t suspected they’d come out of their own free will, so was already headed to his office. Boba’s HUD was linked up with Jango’s, so his _buir’_ s position was listed as a set of coordinates in the top right of his vision, and vice versa. Now the two mystery mandos had shown up, Boba was going to lead them right back to the _Mand’alor_.

He couldn’t wait for the pair to be someone else’s problem.

There was a sharp intake of breath behind him as they exited the ship and the sky rolled into view along with the keep of the _Haat’ade_ citadel. Boba smirked.

To call the stronghold formidable was to call Hoth a little chilly. It was a building designed to withstand the power of a god, and it looked it. Squat and sturdy, it gripped the landscape like a determined _striil_ , radiating stubborn menace. The walls slanted inwards from the base, the windows only large enough for the nose and scope of a sniper rifle. Heavy shapes of ion canons, ballistae and long-range flamethrowers lurked on the battlements, dwarfing the patrolling _verd’e._ Far above them the energy shield crackled blue, and beyond the landing platforms and training courtyards surrounding them were three more curtain walls with defences just like these, and a deep electrified moat. Boba had helped design the energy web writhing in the air between the outer two walls that would fry any jetpack or speeder that tried to fly through it, and his chest fluttered with pride every time he saw it in action.

Those slippery bastards would need a miracle to escape the _keldab_ without someone noticing.

He led them through the open gates into the main keep, saw as they took note of the layered blast doors, the ray shields, and the murder-holes in the roof of the entryway. He knew it was cruel to grin at their mounting tension, but the _or’diniise_ had left him with bruises that would last weeks, and he was about done with their _osik_.

He marched through the doorway from the fortifications to the main keep, and automatically relaxed as the space opened up and colour flowed over the walls. The _keldab_ may have been a fortress, but it was also home, and the space inside was as beautiful and comfortable as the defences were forbidding. The chatter of voices of all kinds drifted through the halls.

He turned, a much kinder smile on his face to gauge the reaction of the new kids.

Only to find empty space.

Boba groaned, and punched the wall.

The pair had vanished again.

-

Din felt a little guilty for sneaking away from Boba a second time, but not enough to stick around. This place was huge, far bigger than the Death Watch base and with at least twice as many people, and he wasn’t going to risk getting injured or locked up again. Luck was the only reason things had gone so well in their attempt to escape the Death Watch base. They weren’t going to just wait for things to go wrong this time.

Besides, Grogu was getting restless. They needed to find somewhere for them to stretch their legs before the womp rat decided to slip off on their own.

These hallways were far more crowded than the ones on the ship had been, and Din’s heart was in his throat every time they passed another _mando’ad_. No one stopped them though, or said anything more than a brief _su’cuy_.

Paz stuck to his side like glue, firmly positioned between Din and the rest of the corridor. His stab wound had begun to heal up nicely thanks to the bacta patch and three days’ rest, and he was no longer bleeding. The injury was still bandaged up tight with some scavenged fabric from their pack, however. They weren’t going to take any chances.

“This place is a maze,” Paz hissed. “We’re never going to find a way out.”

Din scoffed. “Did you see those fortifications? If they don’t want us getting out, we aren’t getting out. We just need somewhere we can hole up that they can’t– ”

Suddenly, Grogu screeched at the top of his lungs, squirmed out Din’s arms and bolted down a turn-off.

“ _Osik!_ ”

Fear gripped Din’s chest as he and Paz raced down the hall after their _ad’ika_. “ _Gro’ika,_ _wait–!_ ”

It was too late. The little womp rat glanced back at them cheekily before waving open a door and darting inside.

Din skidded to a stop in front of the door, distantly registering the sound of voices filtering through Paz was only a moment behind him, and slammed his hand onto the door’s controls. It slid open, and they ducked inside. The voices stuttered to a stop.

The room was full of _ade_.

Din had never seen so many children all in one place before, especially not Mandalorian ones. There had to be at least fifteen, maybe more, all between the ages of three and eight. It caught him off guard, so it took him a moment to register where, exactly, Grogu was.

The _ade_ were mostly clustered not too far from the door, peering at the two intruders curiously, some awed, some wary, whispering amongst each other. And in the centre of the horde was Grogu, cradled in the arms of the only adult in the room.

Grogu cooed happily, waving at them. The _mando’ad_ holding them was fully armoured except for their _buy’ce_ in pure _beskar_ accented in red and yellow. Their face was scarred, their nose crooked, and they stared calculatingly at Paz and him. They both froze on instinct, pinned in the gaze of a predator. Din felt sick.

Logically he knew it was unlikely the _mando’ad_ would hurt Grogu, with how gently they held them and how the _ade_ gathered round him unafraid, but a much larger part of him screamed at him to snatch back his precious _ad’ika_ and hide them away, to place himself between them and this unknown threat and tear it to shreds.

He could not though.

Even if he and Paz could overpower this _mando’ad_ , and that was a big if, there was far too much risk of Grogu or the other _ade_ getting caught in the crossfire.

So he remained frozen, waiting for the _mando’ad_ to make their move.

-

When the door of the nursery slid open, Jaster had assumed _Jan’ika_ or _Bob’ika_ had come to drag him along to the command centre for their debrief.

When instead a small, giggling, green toddler collided with his leg, it came as a bit of a shock. Instinct honed by years spent caring for _ade_ of various ages had Jaster scooping the little rascal up into his arms as the other _adike_ in the room gathered to greet the newcomer, voices climbing over each other as they shouted questions at him.

They fell as silent as the door swept open again and two fully armoured _mando’ade_ burst in. Jaster didn’t recognise them, and their _beskar’gam_ held no familiar signets.

The _ik’aad_ in his arms chirped and waved happily at the interlopers, and the tension that had been gathering on Jaster’s chest abated slightly. Judging by their height and build, the pair were still young, certainly no older than Boba, and judging by their body language, they were scared out of their minds. Jaster murmured some instructions to the _ade_ gathered around him, directing them to Sigrun and her group in the next room – people did stupid things when they were scared, and these two _verd’ike_ were unknowns. He wasn’t going to endanger the children. Jaster pointedly relaxed his own body as the pack shuffled off, smoothing out his expression in the hopes of allowing them to relax.

It didn’t work. The pair were practically vibrating with fear.

“ _Su cuy’gar_ ,” he said gently, carefully. “ _Tion gar gai?_ ”

The pair still startled. “I– uh, Din,” stuttered the unpainted one. “This is Paz.” They shifted nervously; their visor trained unwaveringly on Jaster.

“My name’s Jaster, he/him,” he said, keeping his voice even and smiling softly. “I haven’t seen you around the compound before. I take it you were chasing after this one?” he asked stroking a finger over the big ears of the _ad’ika_ in his arms. Jaster suspected they’d came in with Jango’s ships, and he doubted his son knew where they were.

Din shifted again. The kid really needs to learn how to plant his feet, Jaster mused. “Uh, yeah, we’ll just take them back and we can be out of your hair– ”

“Do you have food for them?” Jaster interrupted. No matter how protective they seemed, there was no way he was letting these unknown _mando’ade_ free reign on the ship with an _ik’aad_. Besides, monitoring wayward recruits would be the perfect excuse for avoiding the debrief. “They must be hungry if you’ve only just arrived. We have plenty of supplies for _ik’aad’e_ here, and for you two as well.”

The child in his arms squeaked happily and smacked at his chestplate. Jaster glanced down at them fondly – clearly his guess was correct. “Come on,” he said moving further into the room. “I get you set up.”

The pair followed uneasily, a strange contrast to the excited, babbling child in his arms. He set the _ik’aad_ down on a cushion next to the low table in the middle of the room. Immediately, Din sat and scooped the child into their lap, Paz settling down so close next to them that they might as well be on top of each other.

Jaster watched them out of the corner of his eye as he set about collecting food for all three _adike_. Din had relaxed slightly now that the child was in their arms, and both they and Paz were murmuring gently, hands shaking slightly as they stroked the _ik’aad_ ’s head. The child was clearly loving the attention, chattering smugly and waving their arms around.

He telegraphed his movements clearly as he moved back over to the table, and set down a non-spill cup of vegetable soup and a tub of soft, shredded nerf meat for the _ik’aad_ and a large bowl of _tingilaar_ for the kids. They still flinched as he got too close, and eyed him warily as he settled onto the floor opposite them.

The _ik’aad_ was already gulping down their meal with glee. Jaster huffed a quiet laugh. “Do they have a name?”

He almost winced as they startled at the sound of his voice. As soon as he found out what _hut’uun_ had given these _ade_ reason to be so jumpy, he was going to rip out their insides and watch them die slowly. For now, he painstakingly buried his rage, determined not to spook the pair further.

“… Grogu,” Din said, eventually, before exchanging a glance with their partner. Jaster waited patiently for them to ask whatever question they were thinking.

It was more of a surprise than it should have been when Paz asked and not Din. “How did you know we’d just arrived?” they demanded, in a voice that could have been threatening if they weren’t curled around their friend on the floor of a children’s playroom. Jaster fought not to coo at them.

“I’ve looked after almost every child that’s grown up in these walls for the past eight years,” he replied. “I didn’t recognise either of you, or Grogu, so it was easy to guess you’d only just shipped in.” He paused as the pair mulled the logic over, seeming to accept it easily. “I take it you’re hiding from the _Alor_?”

The effect was immediate. They stiffened, straightening up with hands straying towards hidden weapons, and Grogu was tucked behind Din in a practiced movement that Jaster could barely follow.

Jaster held up his hands in an obvious surrender. “Hey, don’t worry, I won’t tell him you’re here. I am technically hiding from him right now as well.”

“Why are you hiding from your _Alor_?” Paz asked suspiciously. “Are you in trouble?”

“Not yet,” he said cheerfully. “But he’ll make me do paperwork and I don’t want to.” The _ade_ gradually relaxed, and Grogu emerged from behind Din’s back, grumbling irritably. “My turn: why are _you_ hiding from the _Alor_?”

“Din punched the _Alor’ad_ ,” Paz stated matter-of-factly. “And I hit two _baar’ure_.”

Jaster choked on a laugh. “You hit _Bob’ika_? Well done!” It was probably bad manners to laugh at his _bu’ad_ , but he couldn’t help himself. “What did they do to deserve that?”

“Tried to remove my helmet,” Paz growled.

Jaster raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It is forbidden to show your face to others outside of your clan,” Din said, haltingly. “This is the Way.”

Jaster blinked. “You’re _Ja’hai’ade_?” he asked. That was unusual.

Din stared at him. “We’re Mandalorians.”

“Yes,” Jaster agreed. “And so am I, yet we don’t follow the same creed. Your people, who follow the Way, are known as _Ja’hai’ade_ , or Children of the Watch. Notoriously isolationist – wait, I hope I didn’t offend you by asking for your names.”

“I– no,” Din said, shock clear in his voice. And didn’t that just break Jaster’s heart, for it to be such a surprise that he respected their Way. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“Good,” he sighed, relieved, and then frowned slightly. “Must say, I’m surprised to see you outside of your covert.”

They both flinched. Grogu cooed sadly and reached up to pat Din’s faceplate. “Our covert was destroyed,” Din confessed quietly, leaning into Paz. “We don’t know who else made it out.”

_Ka’ra_.

They must have lost their whole _aliit_ in one fell swoop. No wonder they were twitchy. “ _Wayii_ _adike_ ,” he croaked. “Bet this is your first time out in the galaxy too.”

A jerky nod. “We– we didn’t even know there were other ways to be Mandalorian until the Death Watch.”

“ _Kyr’tsad_?” Their first experience of other _mando’ade_ was _Kyr’tsad_? “ _Manda_ , no wonder you don’t trust the _Alor_ ,” Jaster sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

Paz grunted. “You’re the first _pel’troan_ Mando we’ve met who’s not a _shabuir_. Your _di’kut_ _Alor_ wants to fight Din for some _osik’la_ sword.”

… Sword? Why would Jango fight an _ad_ for a– “Wait, you have the Darksaber?”

The pair stiffened again. “If you want the stupid thing,” Din snapped, “I’d rather you’d just take it instead of killing me for it.”

“No!” Jaster barked, immediately regretting raising his voice after the _ade_ flinched back violently. “No,” he said again, softer. “I don’t want it. I’m not going to fight you for it. You’re an _ad_. No one should be fighting you for it.”

Jaster could feel their confusion even through their _buy’cese_ , and was overwhelmed with the urge to march down to command and bash some heads together. Din cocked his head. “But that’s why we’re here,” he said uncertainly. “The _Mand’alor_ said he couldn’t just take it, and we had to go with him.”

Jaster growled, and pushed to his feet. “Oh, he _did not_. Come,” he said, jerking his head towards the door. “I’m going to fix this for you.”

-

Jaster stalked through the corridors like a nexu, furious and deadly. The _mando’ade_ they passed pressed themselves to the walls to make way for him, peering curiously at Din and Paz as they hurried along behind.

The halls they were moving through were getting much busier now. Din sincerely wanted to be anywhere other than here.

He had really been hoping that he and Paz could slip away again, but Jaster was keeping a much closer eye on them than Boba had, and Grogu had whined pitifully when they’d tried to drop back and get left behind. Now the halls were filled with _mando’ade_ who’d seen them getting marched off by Jaster, and Din had no doubt that there would be questions if they tried to sneak back the other way.

But there was also a small part of Din that didn’t want to sneak off, that wanted to stay and let Jaster sort everything out. It had been so long since they’d been able to let someone else take responsibility, and be able to trust an adult the way Din longed to be able to trust Jaster. He’d been _nice_ to them, and oh so gentle with Grogu. He’d given them food and hadn’t been offended when they’d refused to take off their helmets to eat it, had _understood_ and didn’t try to push. Din could’ve cried. 

He was terrified, though. They were headed straight to the _Mand’alor_ ’s command centre, Grogu uncovered in his arms. Din was praying to the _ka’ra_ that they weren’t about to watch him die.

All too soon, Jaster came to a stop in front of a large set of doors that flew open in front of him. He checked one final time that Din and Paz were following before he swept into the room like a vengeful spirit.

“Jango!”

Din practically leapt out of his skin at Jaster’s shout. What was he _doing_? That was his _Alor_ , he was going to get himself hurt. He held Grogu closer to his chest in a feeble attempt to shield him from the fight that was sure to come.

He flinched as Paz grabbed his arm, but allowed himself to be tugged to the side of the room, away from the other _mando’ade_ gathered at the central table. None of them had their helmets on, and Din tried his best to shove down the embarrassment and guilt he felt at seeing another Mandalorian’s face. He could see Fett, and some other _ramikade_ that he recognised, flinch violently at the shout too.

The _Mand’alor’s_ head jerked up to scowl at Jaster. “Buir?” he asked, and Din felt his _vod_ wince next to him. _Ka’ra_ , he had called the _Alor_ a _di’kut_. He had called _Jaster’s ad_ a _di’kut._ Din really hoped they weren’t about to die. “What– ”

“ _Ne’johaa_!” Jaster barked, furious. It took all of Din’s willpower not to shy away from such an angry commando, and the blatant disrespect of an _Alor_. “What do you think you’re doing, challenging an ad for the _shabla_ _Dha’kad_?”

The _Alor_ looked baffled. “I – wait, what? What are you talking about? I haven’t challenged anyone!”

“Oh yeah?” Jaster snapped. “Then why is Din under the impression that the only reason you brought him here was to kill him for the sith-damned thing?”

Din flinched.

“What?” The _Alor_ looked genuinely confused, and Din wasn’t sure if he should be relived or even more panicked. “I never said that!”

Jaster didn’t back down though, despite his _ad_ ’s bewilderment. “You clearly didn’t say otherwise! The only interaction they’ve had with _mando’ade_ outside their covert is _Kyr’tsad_ , what did you expect them to think?”

“I didn’t expect them to vanish into the walls as soon as they were on ship,” the _Alor_ hissed. “So we never got the chance to explain.”

“What would you have done in a hostile environment with an _ik’aad_ in your care? Sat around waiting to die?” Paz’s grip on Din’s arm tightened with the rising voices, to the point where it was almost painful.

“ _Hostile environment?_ We gave them medical care!” The _Alor_ paused, blinking. “Wait – _ik’aad_?”

All eyes around the room snapped to them, and Din cringed back into Paz under the attention. Grogu cocked his head, and chirped quietly. Din wrestled with the urge to turn and shield them with his body.

“ _Wayii_ ,” the _Alor_ sighed. “I’m sorry, _ade_ ,” he said gently. “If we’d known, we’d have given you more food.”

Din blinked, and shifted uncomfortably. Why was he apologising? It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. “We had our own supplies sir,” Din said stiffly. “We managed.”

The _Alor_ sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “Are they hurt?”

“No sir.”

“Good,” he said. He looked at them, considering. “I was never going to fight you for the ‘ _kad_. It isn’t that important now that Pre Vizsla is dead. But I wasn’t going to leave you for _Kyr’tsad_ reinforcements to pick up, and you weren’t going to come with us unless I pushed the matter. It was a convenient excuse.”

“Oh.” Relief hit Din like a tonne of bricks. Tension he’d been holding for days drained out of him, Paz’s hand on his arm the only thing keeping him upright. “ _Vor entye_.”

“ _N’entye, ad’ika_ ,” the _Alor_ said, still in that low, soothing voice like he was talking to a spooked _striil_. Din would be more offended if it wasn’t so comforting. “We’ll get you all some food and a place to sleep, then we’ll see if we can get in contact with anyone from your clan.”

“Would you prefer to sleep together or in your own rooms?” Jaster asked. The _Alor_ raised his eyebrows at him.

“Not putting them in with the clan kids?”

Jaster snorted. “They’re _Ja’hai’ade_ Jango. You can’t expect them to sleep in their _buy’cese_.”

“Huh,” the _Alor_ said. “I suppose not. Up to you two, then. Do you want to share or not?”

Din glanced up at Paz. They’d claimed each other, and Grogu, as clan a month after the collapse of the covert, but Din had yet to see his face. Nowhere had ever been secure enough for them to feel comfortable removing even the smallest bit of armour, but they had been sleeping curled up with each other every night since the start.

“We’ll share,” Paz decided firmly, and Din smiled behind his visor.

“I’ll go set something up,” Jaster said. “Boba can take you to pick up some food and find you a private room in the meantime.”

“So long as you promise not to disappear on me again,” Fett said cheerfully as he wandered over to them. “ _Buir_ will be pissed if I lose you a third time.”

“Language, Boba!”

“Sorry, _Buir_!” he called back unrepentantly as he ushered Din and Paz out of the room. “Look,” he said, once they were out of earshot. “We kind got off on the wrong foot, and I’m sorry for being such a dick before. Think you could teach me that vanishing trick you do? Educational purposes only, of course.”

Paz snorted, and Din bit back a grin. “We can certainly try,” he said wryly.

Boba grinned.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Mando’a, in order of appearance:**   
> _buy’ce(se) – helmet(s)  
>  Kyr’tsad – the Death Watch  
> Haat’ade/Haat Mando’ade – True Mandalorians  
> verd(’e) – warrior(s)  
> buir – parent   
> beskar’gam – armour, lit. iron skin  
> dar’manda – no longer Mandalorian, grievous insult  
> hut’uun(e) – coward(s)  
> mando’ad(e) – Mandalorian(s), lit. child(ren) of Mandalore  
> beskar – Mandalorian steel  
> ad(e) – child(ren), kid(s)  
> ka’ra – stars, council of dead kings  
> aruetii(se) – outsider(s) or traitor(s) depending on context  
> Mand’alor – one true leader of Mandalorians, king   
> mandokar – the epitome of Mandalorian virtue  
> shabla – screwed up, adj. used like ‘fucking’  
> Kyr’tsadii(se) – member(s) of the Death Watch  
> di’kutla – stupid  
> Alor – leader, boss  
> baar’ur(e) – medic(s)  
> Dha’kad – Darksaber  
> kad – sword  
> Alor’ad – son of the Alor, prince(ess)  
> su cuy’gar – hello lit. you’re still alive, shortened to su’cuy  
> ni cuyir _ aliit _ be _ – I am _ of Clan _ of House _   
> Gor’Alor – The Armourer: my own term, fusion of goran (armourer) and Alor (leader)   
> ad’ika/adike – little one/little ones, kid/kids  
> kute – flight suit, worn underneath armour   
> di’kut – idiot  
> Manda – collective Mandalorian soul  
> striil – strill, a Mandalorian hunting animal: vicious, smelly, and ugly  
> keldab – citadel, stronghold  
> or’dinii(se) – moron(s), fool(s)  
> Gro’ika, Jan’ika, Bob’ika – little Grogu, little Jango, little Boba: pet names  
> ik’aad(‘e) – infant(s), child(ren) under three  
> verd’ike – little warriors   
> tion gar gai – what is/are your name(s)  
> tingilaar – spicy Mandalorian stew  
> bu’ad – grandchild  
> Ja’hai’ade – Children of the Watch: my own term, fusion of ja’hailir (to watch) and mando’ade (Mandalorians)  
> Wayii – good grief etc, general exclamation  
> pel’troan – term for Mandalorians who remove their helmets: my own term, lit. soft face  
> shabuir – strong insult, like motherfucker, almost literally translates to ‘terrible parent’  
> osik’la – messed up, horrible, used like ‘shitty’  
> ramikade – commandos  
> ne’johaa – shut up lit. no speaking  
> vor entye – thank you lit. I accept a debt  
> n’entye – no debt_
> 
> this was only meant to be like 1500 words oops  
> honestly i'm kinda in love with this one, i have 0 regrets
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!


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